Cautiously optimistic
by MummyRussia
Summary: So okay; it took them both a while to find their way with each other, and they weren't so good with communicating at times but it worked. They were Red and Nicky- Ma and little girl big mouth; perfect together.


**Disclaimer:** **I have no claim on any of the characters or OITNB but I do have claim to this love filled squish of a story.**

 **Summary:** **So okay; it took them both a while to find their way with each other, and they weren't so good with communicating at times but it worked. They were Red and Nicky-** _ **Ma and little girl big mouth**_ **; perfect together.**

 **Author Note:** **Please if you think this is OOC or AU it's not; it's for the small little family of shippers for Red and Nicky and their mother daughter like bond on the show (which is so obvious tbh) if you don't like that then don't read it. Simple. Thank you** **Enjoy**

 **Cautiously optimistic**

 _My name is Nicky Nichols and I am an addict. It has been sixty-three days since I last used. My name is Nicky Nichols and I am an addict. It has been sixty-three days since I last used. My name is Nicky Nichols and I am an addict..._ Over and over again Nicky silently repeated her mantra whilst turning the small item methodically, over and over, in her hand. Surrounded by darkness and only the muffled sounds of the outside world, Nicky continued her ritual, taking only shallow, measured breaths when she needed. It was cramped and smelt old under the bunk, but she would only be a minute or two. Just long enough to settle her demons. And then she would be back; the dark needy tendrils growing within her would shrink away and she would be back.

She hated the fact that she was weak like this. But it was the truth. She _was_ an addict. _And once an addict always an addict_. There's no past tense; no back when.

 _Stage one- accept the truth…_ Nicky thought to herself with purpose.

And the truth, Nicky reminds herself, was that it wasn't her fault. Not entirely. She didn't decide to become an addict, she became an addict for a reason. And whatever that reason was (her mother, her bitter loneliness, peer pressure, boredom?) It had the ability and the strength to overcome her.

She was just like every other junkie who walked the same jagged path she did. Sure there are those lucky few who beat it, fight back; who eventually, surely, slowly come back. There are those who defeat the greedy monster within and Nicky likes to think she is one of them. But the vulnerability it left behind is the thing she can never quite escape. The knowledge that she can so easily lose herself is always there. The deep-seated, painful notion is always hovering in the pit of her stomach. Post-traumatic stress disorder from herself.

But not for her; no not Nicky Nichols. Because Nicky is desperate to beat it this time. And so she carried on with her ritual; her grounding, neutralising- centring of the soul as Yoga Jones would say.

Stopping her mantra momentarily, Nicky's mind moved on to stage two; _what brought you this close to the enemy?_ Time to think over the events that led her here and move on. All the while, the little powder filled parcel continued turning like clockwork in her hand until slowly, ever so slowly but surely; she was okay; she was safe- back on base. All the fear, the stress and strain of the last few weeks ebbed away and all the black-dog emotions curled up in the gallows of her mind; muted and asleep once more, until Nicky's hand finally stilled.

Reaching up into the cramp space once more, Nicky tucked the small bag between the lip of the metal frame and the mattress. Red, who had been watching the sight of Nicky's scrawny legs poking out from under the bunk for the last several seconds curiously decided to see what exactly her girl was up to. Silently Red walked around Nicky's legs with a smile before gently nudging her calf with the tip of her foot.

Beneath the bunk the sudden presence of someone electrified every nerve in Nicky's body, causing her to violently flinch in surprise; it only served her with a dull bang to the head. Swiftly wiggling out the rest of the way, Nicky popped up like a startled deer in headlights, her hand unconsciously coming to rub the sore spot on her head.

'Ma, you scared me.' She stated accusingly, her voice an octave higher than normal. (Something which Red noticed instantly) With a dismissive chuckle, Red reached out, covering Nicky's small hand with her own ropey fingers, the tips perfectly coated red, her equally manicured other hand came to cup around Nicky's neck, gently bringing the girl's head close enough for her to drop a kiss onto the smarting spot.

Nicky's vision became blocked by the front of the older woman's smock; the touch of her lips brushed her crown, the associated smell of _mum_ filled her mind; overloading her fragile, frayed senses. When the distinctly Russian accent caressed her ears, asking her what she was doing- a war began to rage in Nicky's mind. She'd been caught; what was she supposed to say? She couldn't out rightly lie to Red as to why she was under the bunk- Red would instantly call bullshit to that.

Too many thoughts raced through Nicky's mind as she struggled to sort between the guilt (for what she was doing would surely upset the only woman she's ever loved) and the fear that Red would be mad at her and finally push her away, brought forth unwanted tears in the corners of her eyes. Blinking furiously in a plea to rid the evidence of her emotional panic, Nicky shrugged, turning away from Red as quickly as she could, instead growing completely fixated on a book poking out from under her bunk.

'I wasn't doing anything.' She muttered offhandedly, sounding and looking so young to Red; standing there, refusing to look at her but instead at her feet like a guilty puppy. The edges of her ears, just visible through the mass of strawberry blonde hair, began to turn pink. Red's keen ears had also noticed how the younger girl's normally rusty, rumbling voice had gained yet another octave. Something was up with her Nicky. Instantly Red's motherly instincts began to fire in concern and suspicion.

"Well now I know you were doing something. What were you doing, kid?'" A direct question. She didn't miss Nicky's quick guilty glance towards the bunk or the way her dark, emotive eyes reflected the fluorescent lights overhead more than usual. For Red, all these signs were a sure indication that A- her girl was up to something and B- her girl was close to tears. Both of course stirred Red's emotions until fear for her little girl wrapped her heart in icy cold dread.

Unlike her sons, who at their worst, were just a problem for others; stealing from the corner shop or boisterous fights with neighbouring kids, her Nicky was a problem to herself and needed more from Red than what her sons ever did.

She had learned the hardest way possible that mothering girls was different, emotionally, than mothering boys. You needed to be kinder and more physical. Trisha died because Red made this mistake. Not Nicky though; not her Nicky. Nicky was hers and hers alone; more of her heart belonged to her than it ever did to Trisha or for Murphey, even Norma would come in second to Nicky if Red was forced to choose. Demetri, her sons and Nicky; her family, were the only true victors in earning unconditional love from the hardened Russian matriarch.

"What is it, Nicky?" She partially whispered. "Tell me."

Nicky sucked in a deep breath before briefly meeting Red's gaze.

"It's not what you think, okay?" She pleaded before falling to the floor once more and reaching under the bed. Glancing up through her curls, Nicky watched as Red sat onto the bunk somewhat stiffly, waiting expectantly, her hands unconsciously starting to fidget in fretful anticipation. Fingertips brushed over dusty books and screwed up laundry until gingerly clasping around a little piece of tinfoil. Nicky stopped there.

"Nicky..." Red, somehow feeling Nicky's hesitation, encouraged her daughter with a slightly authoritative tone.

The little aluminium wrapped parcel seemed to glint dramatically as Nicky brought it out from beneath the darkness and into the light. It weighed heavy in her hands, pressing into the centre of her palm with a pressure that belied the true fragility of the item enclosed inside.

The air was tense as the little shiny bundle passed from daughter to mother and quick, steady fingers peeled open the wrap to reveal the tiny mound of white powder. Almost instantly the Russian's worn fingers closed back around the object, her head automatically whipping round to be sure no one had seen the exchange. It would mean SHU for Nicky and possibly for her too.

Happy that no one had seen, Red slowly returned her attention back to Nicky, who had grown several years younger within the short time. Before her now was a frightened and guilty eyed child, shaking in her oversized slacks looking up at her elder; caught with her hands in the cookie jar. Red softened at the sight of the girl.

Taking a calmative breath, holding Nicky's complete attention with just her gaze, Red spoke.

"What are you doing with this?" It was a simple question, an expected question.

"Proving just how fucking messed up I am."

"Nicky, you know what it is I am asking. Don't avoid my question."

"I've had it a while you know, keeping it like some fucked up junkie Gollum, stroking it in the dark, I mean what the fuck right?"

"Nicky enough!" Red had had enough of Nicky's panicked motor-mouth ramblings. Stop evading my question and just tell me…fucking nonsense about goblins…" Red demanded irately.

"Hobbit not a goblin…" Nicky muttered before flinching as Red's hand suddenly (but expectedly) tangled into her hair, pulling her close and holding firmly. Red's hand always found its way into Nicky's hair whenever she spoke to her. Nicky had noticed that a long, long time ago.

Using her hold on the strawberry locks as leverage to get the girl to look at her, Red held tight to keep her flighty daughter knelt before her; knowing that should she lessen her grip on the girl's hair, Nicky would surely evade her questions further with her quick words of humorous evasion; so unequipped with dealing with emotional confrontation was she.

 _I'm not Marta_ …Red thought… _You can't get rid of me little girl._

"Why must you make things so difficult?" Red sighed like a mother who had been called into the headmaster's office for the umpteenth time; tired and frustrated.

Nicky screwed her eyes shut momentarily, pinching the bridge of her nose with a hiss. Red watched as she opened her mouth to speak before shutting it once more, struggling a few more times with the process, before simply expressing herself with a distressed grumble.

The failed attempt at communication did not satisfy Red one bit. She wasn't about to let Nicky retreat within herself. Not this time; she would stop Nicky self-destructing if it was the last thing she did.

"Answer me Nicky, are you using again?" She asked tersely, her hands pushing her hair back, curling in to grip at Nicky's ears.

"No Ma. Cautiously optimistic remember?" The girl finally found her voice, again sounding _so young_ to Red in that moment.

Red chuckled softly; in bittersweet relief, dropping her hold on Nicky. She wasn't using. It would truly break her heart if Nicky used again. She'd come close; too close those few months ago, to losing Nicky. It had brought her begging in tears to the cubicle shower.

" _Tell me what to do Nicky. I don't know what to do!"_ She remembers how utterly hopeless she had felt looking down at her daughter in the little yellow cubicle. Nicky had looked so small, knees drawn in close, hidden beneath her stretched over t-shirt. Her skinny bare arm poking out, clutching a cigarette. That night, Red had felt like she failed Nicky, she was meant to stride in and just take care of her but instead she had just cried and begged Nicky; feeling utterly, utterly hopeless as a mother.

" _I was always hopeless…I am not your fault."_ Nicky's words that night echo through her mind and Red had to push down the overbearing, all-encompassing sadness her statement created within Red.

 _You're not hopeless_ , Red thought as she reached out for Nicky once again.

"That's my girl." Red encouraged with a slightly crooked smile, leaning forward to gently hook her index finger beneath Nicky's chin so Nicky had no choice but to look up at her.

"Yeah?" Nicky asked through a croak of emotion lodged deep within her throat.

"Yeah. Come here _malyshka_." Nicky instantly shifted from her position on the floor and scooted back over to her mum, wrapping her arms around Red's middle like a small child would who wants to be picked up. She pressed her cheek against her mother's bosom, blocking out the world around her apart from Red, apart from her strict, supportive and beloved mother.

"I'm sorry." Nicky whispered as she felt Red's hands, slow with age, come to wrap around her. However Red only just about heard the unneeded apology, as she brought her arms around Nicky, her worn hand spanning wide over Nicky's head, pressing the girl even closer than she already is.

"It's okay, you're okay." Red soothed before adding a tad tensely "I just wish I understood why you have it."

There was the question- Nicky always dreaded that question and yet knew it was coming; knew it had to be asked. It was too much; too real; too close to Marta asking her over a board room table what in the world was wrong with her. Nicky couldn't fight her emotions and guilt any longer and with a little losing whimper, burst into tears against her mother. She didn't have an answer for Red (she never had an answer for Marta either) and that bothered her deeply. _I was always hopeless._

Red cursed herself mentally as her arms drew tighter around Nicky's shoulders, her aging hand burrowed its way into her hair again, as she all but smothered Nicky against her chest.

She absolutely hated it when Nicky cried. The sight and sound was so unbelievably heart-breaking, it was physically painful for the aging Russian to witness. Her daughter's big and emotive; captivating eyes, would grow impossibly wider, glittering and glass like. Her cherubim face would turn a rosy pink as she struggled to breathe through the tightening in her chest (a long lasting effect of her open heart surgery.) Even the meanest, coldest of people would have trouble turning away from the girl when she cried. This, to the Russian, made Nicky's real mother the worst person to walk the face of the earth. It was because of that woman Nicky became so afraid and uncertain whenever moments like this happened. Moments when Red comforted her, reprimanded her, nurtured her, _mothered_ _her_ ; were so foreign to the young girl, it always brought her to tears. So unused to someone actually being there and loving her, it broke every defensive rule Nicky lived by, to stop herself getting hurt again; to keep her safe from the rejection she so feared.

It was just a heart-breaking fact about her daughter; one Red would never truly be able to mend; try as she might.

 _That won't stop me trying though_ ; Red decided determinedly, pulling Nicky closer still as though at any moment Nicky would be ripped away from her. She lets Nicky soak her smock with tears, lets the heart-wrenching sobs vibrate through her body, trembling in time with Nicky as she cried. Red has done this countless times with Nicky; the key is patience. You need to give Nicky time for her emotional barricades to come crumbling down; and just be there for her, until she was ready to let you in. Red would give Nicky all the time in the world. _Ready when you are, kid._ Red thinks with a smile, hiding it in Nicky's thick mane of hair as she began to ponder the girl in her arms and ponder when exactly the kid became so much a part of her heart.

Truthfully, she can't say exactly when she lost the leftover remnants of her heart to Nicky. She can't say exactly when remarking she had a daughter became as natural as divulging the fact she had two sons. And she definitely can't say exactly when the maternal instincts she never thought she possessed; the instincts to be soft and to be motherly, bloomed into life within her. It just all happened. Slowly; quickly, irreparably, until Red could say, without a doubt, when asked- that she loved Nicky Nichols, the doe-eyed big mouth, like the daughter she never had. And should anyone ever even look at her wrongly, they would have Red to contend with.

Red knew it mystified the others to begin with, especially her old friend, lost to MAX Claudette, who couldn't think of anything worse than having a young girl constantly hovering around you and being a pain. It was all Red could to but try and describe the stomach churning; sense stimulating, life affirming feelings that occurred around the talkative kid.

But eventually, after many a withering, sceptical eye roll and brow arch, she stopped trying to explain it away with reason and sense but simply acknowledged the unusual yet wonderful blessing it was. Because Nicky loved her back just as much, and knowing the wayward girl looked to her for love and guidance, for discipline and comfort, lulled Red to bed each night with a lighter heart than she had ever had before; before the girl came into her life.

It's her smile that proves to be Red's undoing most days. When Nicky first arrived, she had looked so utterly lost and frightened, puffing her chest out and holding her head high had only further emphasised how truly alone she was. But then… she looked right at Red from across the dining hall and Red was blinded. Nicky had smiled like a child who had finally spotted their mum in the audience of a school performance. _Relief. Mum was there._

Ironic really.

Nicky's laugh is quite infectious also. It's gravelly and sometimes mischievous; and inappropriate- because Nicky has a nervous laugh. When things become serious, or the inmates of Litchfield are mad or raring for a fight; Nicky can't help but chatter incessantly, and laugh uncertainly to ease the thick atmosphere pressing in on her.

Her mouth has brought her a lot of trouble over the years. Sometimes Red will cut to the chase and silence her with a firm clip around the ear or a smack to her bottom before Nicky can offend someone who would do far more than spank her backside. It always has the wanted effect, as Nicky turns bright red and sometimes becomes tearful but it's worth the momentary upset over the fear worse would befall her daughter.

Red is bossy to the point of controlling, always making sure Nicky has eaten and that she stays safe and reacting when Nicky doesn't do as she wanted. She knows it aggravates Nicky at times; who is so accustomed to being left alone, free to do what she wants, that having an authoritative figure dictating certain parts of her life was unusual and sometimes unsettling until she realised that Red only meant the best for her.

So okay; it took them both a while to find their way with each other, and they weren't so good with communicating at times but it worked. They were Red and Nicky- _Ma and little girl big mouth_ ; perfect together.

"Are you feeling better?" Red asks softly, sensing Nicky had cried herself out, her breathing shaky with exhaustion. When Nicky pulled back a little, shyness and embarrassment bruising her cheeks, Red reached out to brush at the stray tears still marring the girl's chubby cheeks.

"You look like a cabbage patch kid." Red remarked with a smirk, instantly rewarded with the beautifully crooked grin of her daughter.

"That's my _Nikita_." Red's voice is soft and proud as she memorises Nicky's smile along with every other smile Nicky has blessed Red with.

Nicky feels lighter and relieved, smiling at Red's words. She has always liked it when Red called her that. It further cemented that she was hers; Red's _Nikita_ and not her birth mother's _Nicola_.

"You know we have to talk right?" Red asked, giving Nicky warning that she wasn't going to let it go until she knew what was going on. Nicky's hand subconsciously came to rub at her eyes, stretching her eyelid up before Red whacked her hand away.

"Stop pulling at your face; the wind will change and you'll get stuck like that. Get me your hairbrush and sit." Red gently ordered with a little shove, giving the girl her complete care and attention knowing it was something so rarely given to the spitfire kid.

Nicky did as she was told, fetching the hairbrush, handing it over to Red, plumping two pillows, one for Red to lean against (subconsciously thinking of her mother's often aching back) and one for herself to sit on. As Nicky squirmed around for a moment at Red's feet, Red waited patiently until at last Nicky sat with her short legs out before her and her hands came to fiddle on the hem of her shirt in her lap.

Red began. Slowly wracking her fingers through the thick, unruly curls, careful not to snag her fingernails, she attempted to loosen the wild mop a little. She loved to brush Nicky's hair. It was something she always felt she missed out on, only having boys, she never got to do more than comb their short cropped locks and only then when they were very young. She remembers her mother brushing her hair when she was young and revelled in the memory of her _Mama_ chastising Red for letting it knot so during the day. Red smiled, imagining her mother's utter horror at seeing Nicky's untamed curls.

However, it didn't go unnoticed to Red that Nicky was sitting there quietly and more unusually, perfectly still. She would normally be squirming and chattering and moving around so much, Red would have to thwack the back of her head with the brush to get her to stop fidgeting. It highlighted Nicky's state of mind more than any explanation the girl was soon to offer.

Red knew; through motherly instinct, intuition or simply because she knew Nicky better than anyone, that Nicky's defences were down. It was not her chatty, sarcastic and mischievous Nicky sitting before her but _child_ Nicky, the broken little girl desperate for Mother's attention, trying still, to keep it together.

 _It's okay,_ Red thought, _Mama's here now_.

Feeling the brush pull through her strawberry blonde mane, Nicky finally spoke.

"You're going to have to direct me through this one Ma, because I can't do it on my own." Nicky confessed, blushing red, even now, three years down the line, unused to someone taking the time to hear her out. She; her birth mother, would have walked out ten minutes ago, as soon as she had seen what Nicky was doing. Hell, _Marta_ wouldn't have even been around to catch Nicky in the first place.

Red however, beamed proudly down at her _rebenok_ , proud that she was not shutting her out but asking for her help.

"Okay kid, let's start at the beginning. Where did you get it?" She would not directly give voice to the substance capable of stealing her daughter away.

"I found it. Hidden away in electrics. I don't even know why I was looking, but I was. I think it was Luschek's or…I don't know, but that's where I got it." Her voice was honest and lilting; she sounded so young to Red's experienced ears. She always knew when Nicky was lying, or anyone for that matter. Nicky was not lying.

"That man…I will fucking _kill_ him." Red seethed, unable to hide her anger at the man.

"Ma…come on." Nicky moaned, trying to stop Red before she went off on one of her _Russian Mafia_ tirades.

"Fine no killing. This time. But at least a few special ingredients added to his next lunch I think." Red conceded. "He'll be shitting through a fucking pin hole if he ever gets you in trouble again." Nicky just waited for the lioness to calm down before she spoke once more.

"It's not Luschek's fault, I went looking. He wasn't to know I would find it." She reasoned finally.

"Oh you are right; God forbid an inmate goes looking for drugs in a prison, we mustn't blame poor _CO_ Luschek." Red's sarcasm dripped over Nicky forcing a laugh from the younger girl. Nicky tried to turn and smile up at her but Red held her firm before continuing to brush out her long locks. By now Nicky's crazy hair was falling in thick golden ringlets down her back. Only Red could work magic like this on her hair.

"When was it that you found it?" Red didn't want to voice it aloud, but she was angry at Nicky for having the stuff hidden in her bunk. Obviously she didn't ever want the girl using again that went without saying. No, she wasn't angry at Nicky for having it; that was part of the illness, but keeping it in her bunk was just stupid.

Bunk checks happened rather regularly at Litchfield; the guards loved to rifle through their personal property at least twice a month. If Nicky had been caught with it (and they always honed in on the inmates with drugs on their record) she would end up back in MAX. She would be taken from Red and her friends _again_ …she would be lost. The last bunk check was sometime last week, so had she got lucky or had she found it since?

Nicky was intelligent. She read between the lines.

"I know what you're thinking Ma, I was fucking stupid hiding it in here." Her voice; cleared through tears, sounded light and soft. Red made a guttural growling noise, deep in her throat, in agreement with Nicky. "I'm a fucking waste of space." Nicky had a habit of attacking herself before anyone else could; never giving herself even the slightest benefit of doubt.

The dull whack of the hairbrush colliding with the back of her head put a pay to that.

"You are not a waste of space. Stop talking shit." Red stated simply, already brushing Nicky's hair gently again despite Nicky's hand weaving around to touch the spot where Red had just hit her. "Move your hand and tell me how long you've had it."

"I've had it about a month." Nicky said, dropping her hand back into her lap and deciding it best to just answer her mother's question.

"And you haven't used?" Red asked matter-of-fact. Nicky instantly got defensive.

"Geez, I already told you. No fucking no!" Her voice was high and desperate. Red pulled hard on Nicky's hair, forcing the girl to crane her head back into Red's lap to lessen the strain. The Russian blue eyes met indignant brown as she reprimanded the girl.

"Don't get mouthy with me kid. I was just checking." Red growled with intent, being sure Nicky acknowledged her with a sheepish nod before letting go.

"Help me understand Nicky, please. Why have it if you aren't using?" There was the question again. Nicky shuddered, suddenly stone quiet once more.

Placing the hairbrush down, again Red waited, patiently, calmly whilst Nicky fought and struggled to find her voice. Red began to separate Nicky's curls into two long bundles, plaiting one slowly, idly, giving Nicky all the time in the world. The fact that Nicky knew this; knew that Red would just wait, give her time, still took Nicky by surprise.

"It's like…it's like if I have it; if I know I can use it, but don't, I win. You know?" The young girl stuttered and hesitated as she tried to explain her method behind the madness. She turned a little in her seat to gage Red's reaction.

The old cook simply continued to plait one side of Nicky's hair, badly, for every twist of her curls meant more hair escaped and stuck out of the plaited locks.

"And when it all gets too much, and I start thinking about it, I hold it, imagine taking it, and imagine the relief. The fucking euphoric feeling of _not_ _feeling_. But then I imagine your disappointment and then I just… _put it away_." Nicky finished quietly, seemingly exhausted and apprehensive now her secret was out in the open; shaming her and highlighting her weakness. She couldn't see the single tear roll down Red's cheek and disappear into the wild ringlets of her hair.

"Well…" Red cleared her throat, aware of the emotion constricting her voice and pushing out her accent harder than normal. "I think that makes you the strongest and bravest person I know. I am so proud of you Nicky." Honest, unbridled, unabashed love. Red encircled her daughter's shoulders from behind, squeezing tightly as she buried her face into Nicky's hair, respite settling her muscles and soothing the fear she always felt; buried just behind the daily running of life, the fear that one day she could lose her Nicky.

Red heard Nicky's own sigh of relief; quiet though it was.

Eventually Red pulled back, giving Nicky's shoulders one more firm squeeze before picking up the hairbrush once again and brushing out her failed attempt at braiding Nicky's curly hair.

"Are you going to take it away?" Nicky asked after a long peaceful moment of contented silence. Nicky felt the hairbrush still in her hair as Red comprehended what she was asking. Every part of Red wanted to remove the threat from her daughter; keep the vile stuff as far away from her physically and mentally as was possible. However; she had been taught a lesson today when it came to Nicky's willpower. It turns out her girl was far stronger than Red had ever inwardly given her credit for. She had had it for over a month, tucked under her bunk, through the long and lonely hours of the prison nights; just below where she lay alone with her thoughts. And yet- she hadn't taken it. Maybe by leaving it with Nicky it would keep Nicky from doing it.

"I…understand why you have to." Nicky's voice, soft yet sorrowful, pulled Red from her thoughts. "I mean, that's what I would do. I think. That's what you do isn't it? For people you love….or care about…I'm not saying you love me…I mean…" Red instantly opened her mouth to reply but Nicky's insecurities, never that well-hidden around Red, had taken a hold once more; her words spilling out faster than she could form them. If it wasn't for the fact that Red had grown accustomed to Nicky's ramblings, the girl's mile a minute speech would sound like gibberish to the Russian's ears.

"You don't have to take it either; why should you? I'm not your responsibility, I'm not your problem. None of this is; why are you even here? Why are you not mad at me? Come on Red, you're losing your touch- hit me, call me a junkie waste of space; _Russian's don't play baseball_ \- push me out the family! What's this- strike 5? I'm still waiting for you to turn around and tell me to get out of your life; please just get it over with already." Nicky had grown quite distressed, having moved away from Red in her tirade, her voice cracking as she tried to mimic Red's thick soviet accent.

"I'm not Trish you know. I won't go and die if you do. You don't have to stick around through guilt or whatever; saving me won't save her." Tears had begun to creep back into her eyes as her cheeks bruised red in frustration. Nicky paused to catch her breath and Red instantly pounced at her opportunity to speak. She didn't say much, in fact she only said one word.

"Nicky."

Her voice was soft and sad, tired yet strong. That's all it took- one word from Red had the ability to completely deflate Nicky, silence her and gain her complete attention.

Red pointed sharply at the space before her feet. "Come here, now." She ordered strictly. Nicky sheepishly crawled back over to her original position on the floor before Red, staring at the drying damp spot she had left on Red's smock from earlier.

"Look at me kid."

Nicky flinched at how angry Red sounded but met her gaze with wide, trepid eyes. Instantly she regretted it because Red looked murderous. Her aged hands came to grip tightly at the younger girl's ears, pulling her closer than she wished to be at that moment.

"You and your fucking mouth; Nikita. Trisha's death is on me; I know that. But you are not Trisha; I loved her yes but you…" Her words would not come to her, what she wanted to say was that Nicky was her heart. "When will you get it into your thick skull, I fucking love you like you were my own. You _are_ my own Nicky, my _devushka_ , five strikes, a hundred strikes, who gives a shit. I can't and don't want to push you out the family because you _are_ my family. Don't misunderstand my girl, I'll spank you black and blue and make your life hell if you use once more, but you will never be alone again. Okay?" Red was seething, her voice deadly and _ruthlessly_ Russian. When Nicky jerked loose of Red's hands; either trying to purposefully evade Red's grip or just because she was distressed, Red simply slapped her around the side of the head- hard- before taking hold once again. "Okay?" Red barked desperately.

"Okay…okay." Nicky sobbed raggedly. "I'm sorry….I love you Ma, I'm so sorry!"

Red tiredly pulled Nicky close once again, soothing her tears with her touch, wishing she hadn't been so rough with the girl now the tears were back. It was just so frustrating; she wasn't like Nicky, she hadn't the vocabulary she needed to express the love she felt for the younger girl. She knew how to be tough and how to hammer home her points but when Nicky was in a state like this, tough love of the soviet mother didn't quite cut it.

"Please listen to me Nicky." Red asked softly, her own voice breaking slightly. She felt Nicky try to pull back to look up at her but Red held tightly, it would be easier to express herself without the risk of losing her train of thought in Nicky's big eyes.

"You are loved my girl and by no one more than me." And that was that; Red and Nicky finally found peace in each other's arms with the truth laid out for all to see. Red eventually let go of Nicky and Nicky smiled so brightly it was as though none of the tears and upset had ever even happened. She insisted Red take the little aluminium demon; despite Red maintaining she trusted Nicky to keep it, trusted her to do what she needed to do to keep her addiction at bay. But Red did as Nicky asked, and took the drugs away and flushed it down the toilet. From then on whenever Nicky needed to face her demons; she would go to Red instead. She would sit between her legs and hold Red's hand. In place of the heroine turning over and over in her hands, she would trace the lines on her mother's liver spotted hand; and in place of her mantra she would tell Red proudly _"My name is Nicky Nichols and I am an addict. It has been 87 days since I last used. My name is Nicky Nichols and I am an addict. It has been 104 days since I last used. My name is Nicky Nichols and I am an addict. It has been 134 days since I last used."_

Eventually, she didn't need to declare the days or confront the addict within her. Just holding Red's hand for a moment, once in a blue moon, was enough to centre herself and quiet the demons within. Because with Red there scaring them away with her, Nicky Nichols felt safe and secure that she would never lose herself again. Not with Red threatening to take the world apart to keep her right where she was needed most; with Red, keeping her heart beating and facing everyday together; Ma and Little girl big mouth. Perfect together.

The End.

Translations from my lovely friend at work-thanks!

 _Rebenok= child_

 _Malyshka= baby/ poppet_

 _Vytri slezy= Wipe your tears_

 _Devushka= girl_

 _ **Okay so massively squishy and ridiculously overloaded with emotions and sickening love but these two do that to me and I can't help it. They demand I write these torturous things. I hope you enjoyed it and I thank you very much for sticking with it till the end. Much love to the small yet wonderful Red and Nicky fandom- from Mummyrussia- peace! X**_


End file.
